


John's Experiment

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John decides to try a little experiment of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan-fiction posted here, so I would appreciate constructive criticism but be nice! (:
> 
> Sorry if you find it a bit short!

During experiments, Sherlock was the height of annoying.  
  
He'd sit there at the kitchen table, legs crossed, radiating obnoxiousness without saying a word. When John tried to speak he would bat a hand to dismiss him and if John insisted it was important he would huff childishly and continue to ignore him regardless.  
  
It was early on a Sunday afternoon, when John returned from a lunch date to find the glass of water he'd left beside his boyfriend empty, that he decided it would be the perfect opportunity to finally punish Sherlock for being such a dick. Though really, John was quite used to Sherlock being a dick, as that was his main personality trait...he just really wanted to try an experiment of his own.  
  
"Afternoon, Sherlock!"  
  
Sherlock didn't reply. He didn't even make the effort to bat a hand.  
  
"You've been at that a few hours. Any results?"  
  
"What does it look like?"  
  
John sighed and approached the kitchen table, busying himself by tidying away anything that looked like it needed tidying. He picked up the glass. "Glad you finished this. You don't usually listen to me."  
  
"I had a bad taste in my mouth," Sherlock deadpanned. John laughed darkly, thinking back to earlier that day when he had woken up hard and Sherlock had decided to swallow, not spit.  
  
"If you're not careful you'll dehydrate one of these days," he mentioned, taking the glass to the sink to fill it to the brim again. He placed it beside Sherlock. "Drink up. Middle of summer; you need all the water you can get."  
  
Sherlock muttered something irritably under his breath but took a gulp of the water anyway, his eye not moving away from the microscope. "Good boy."  
  
"Don't patronise me, John."  
  
John smirked to himself. There'd be much reason to treat Sherlock like a child within the next few hours.  
  
"You're tense."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
Moving to stand behind Sherlock, John began to gently knead his shoulders. He sensed Sherlock almost move to escape his hands but then he hesitated and started to relax. He tensed up again, however, when John leant to place wet kisses on his neck.  
  
"Stop it, John. I'm trying to concentrate."  
  
"Babe..."  
  
"I said stop! And don't call me babe, that's creepy."  
  
Laughing to himself, John moved away. On his way to the living room he tapped the glass of water with his nail and called "drink up!"  
  
The experiment began.  
  
  
 **13 minutes in.**  
  
John noticed that Sherlock had finished his water, so he put the newspaper down and wandered into the kitchen. "Want another glass, Sherlock?"  
  
"No thanks."  
  
John could tell why. Sherlock clearly wasn't desperate yet but he'd heard him shift in his seat every few minutes and he was now tapping his foot restlessly.  
  
"You look a little peaky," John lied, moving to rest a hand on Sherlock's forehead - he would have pulled away if it wasn't for the important shit going down underneath the microscope. "You're pretty warm, actually. Drink some more water for me."  
  
"I'm fine," Sherlock grumbled as John filled the glass to the top again.  
  
"No, you're just too obsessed with science to care about your own body." He placed the glass down beside him. "Now drink up or I'll take away all your equipment."  
  
 **32 minutes in.**  
  
John cleared a space at the table opposite Sherlock and lay down a plate, a knife and a fork. "You sure you don't want anything? I've got more than enough to share."  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"If you insist."  
  
He opened his takeaway bag and poured his curry onto the plate. Digging a little deeper, he pulled out two frosty cans of Pepsi.  
  
"They brought two cans," he mused, watching Sherlock's hand lingering on the inside of his thigh, ready to hold himself if need be. "You'd better drink one."  
  
"Why had I better drink one? What is the logic behind this statement?"  
  
"There's a head in the fridge."  
  
"Oh, so what! You can fit it behind the head! Leave me to my work, John."  
  
John hung his head to smirk. Sherlock's desperation was making him cranky, and he suspected he still had no plans to leave his experiment for the two minutes it would take to use the bathroom. Not that John would let him, anyway.  
  
"Does your mouth not still taste of cum?"  
  
Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment, huffed, and pulled away from the microscope. As he skilfully popped open the can with one hand, he ran his long fingers through his messy curls with the other. His eyes dropped open as he took a sip and John noticed the dark bags underneath them.  
  
"You're tired."  
  
"I've been busy."  
  
"I want you to get a good nights sleep after this experiment, alright? Doctor's orders."  
  
"And if I don't?"  
  
"You don't want to know." John laughed and warmth shot through his belly when Sherlock cracked a smile too.  
  
 **46 minutes in.**  
  
John let his fork clatter to the plate as he finished his meal. Across the table, Sherlock was holding himself firmly at the crotch. He thought he was being sneaky about it. To be fair, it was unnoticeable if one wasn't looking, but John had been waiting for just this.  
  
John saw Sherlock wince. He suspected that Sherlock had accidentally let go a little in his pants. Slowly, he began to stand up.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"The bathroom, if you don't mind," Sherlock spat sarcastically. Wow, he was grumpy. He probably hated feeling out of control like this.  
  
"Let me go first? The curry, you know..."  
  
"That's disgusting," Sherlock muttered, but he sat down anyway, determined not to let John know how desperate he was. John determined he had a good seven minutes before Sherlock really couldn't hold it anymore.  
  
 **51 minutes in.**  
  
"You might not wanna go in there for a good few- Sherlock?"  
  
Sherlock was stood, leant against the table, squeezing his crotch hard in his free hand, his eyes tightly shut after a few tears had escaped from them.  
  
"John," he whimpered.  
  
John had come just in time.  
  
"Shit, I'm sorry Sherlock! I should have let you go first..." He faked sympathy as he approached his boyfriend, watching a dark patch grow on his grey pyjama bottoms. He placed a hand on Sherlock's side and rubbed soothingly. "It's okay, Sherlock. Don't hold it in, you'll hurt yourself. Just let it go."  
  
Sherlock's head dropped onto John's shoulder as he wet himself. John kissed his temple and sank a hand into his hair.  
  
"I'm sorry, John."  
  
"Shh, it's alright. It's my fault. I gave you too much to drink." Sherlock shook his head but didn't say anything more. John could feel his own trousers getting wet from where Sherlock was pressed into him, which was terribly inconvenient for hiding his boner.  
  
"51 minutes," he whispered to himself, smirking.  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"Nothing, Sherlock. Let's get you cleaned up."


End file.
